Page 37 of The Scars Within (Twisted Thorn #1)

I let my feet guide me. My heart had nowhere it wanted to be.

It feels utterly lost.

The sensation of fresh air on my face was the only thing my soul craved. My fath– no– Captain Thorne may have invaded my special place. But that was the last time he would steal my peace from this rooftop.

My entire life, my greatest demon has been someone who didn’t even acknowledge my existence. I’ve let a villain treat me as their victim without them needing to do any real work.

While I was slowly dying inside, he was living in a world where there was no me .

I’m done cowering from his whip—one that I’ve inflicted upon myself.

As I stood there, mentally retreating into the depths of my Rock Bottom, a shining light pulled me back.

“Scarlet?” Rhodes asked, his voice slicing through my pain.

I forced my eyes to focus on him, battling the swelling to see clearly. He was seated against the wall that casts deep evening shade—the spot he had claimed as his own. Rising from the ground, he closed the book he’d been reading .

I had no energy left; words eluded me. I felt myself swaying from foot to foot, balancing on whichever leg could support me in that moment.

I’ve worked harder to rebuild myself than most people my age.

From a very young age, I learned how to survive and then had to do so on my own.

I managed to keep myself fed, bathed, and content with life.

I found a friend and discovered joy in the things around me. I built my backbone piece by piece.

And then I was broken. I was lost. I endured what would have killed most; every bit of the person I had created shattered and taken away from me. Everything I ever had was stripped away. Every spark of happiness was extinguished.

I’ve been to my lowest of lows. I’ve fought my biggest demons. I’ve survived.

And nobody even knows.

Rhodes stepped closer but still respected my personal space. I turned to him, meeting his gaze—one eye fully gray, the other fighting to be blue. The battle within his eyes was like mine, caught between who the world says I should be and who I strive to become.

His eyes lit up like a beacon shining through a hurricane.

“Who did this to you?” his voice dropped.

“I did,” I whimpered.

Confusion flicked across his face at my response before dissolving into a quiet understanding. Rhodes didn’t say another word. He just held his hands out to me, palms up.

It was then that I realized what I was running toward. To someone who also seems to be trying to find himself. To someone who will accept me no matter how lost I feel.

I laid my hands in his. My shoulders hunched with a rush of relief.

I can be myself with him. I do not have to pretend. I can laugh. I can joke. I can pull him onto a dance floor in the middle of an unfamiliar line dance .

Maybe it’s so easy to be myself because the beacon of his eyes tells me that I can fall apart a little with him, too.

“I didn’t want to wake up–” I rasped.

The bells rang louder than I’d ever heard at Mageia, stealing my words. His hands tightened on mine in silent question, and I nodded.

Rhodes rushed to the parapet, peering down with a tense expression. “Shit,” he whispered, then quickly returned to me, opening the iron door and standing back to let me through first.

“Something bad has happened,” he said apprehensively.